Bombmaker

by Claire McFall

  Samuel made a disgusted noise.

  “I want to go back to Cardiff, not bloody Aberystwyth.”

  “We’ll give you a car,” Danny replied, deliberately not reacting to Samuel’s scathing tone. “And an escort,” he added, because Samuel had opened his mouth to interrupt him again.

  I raised my eyebrows. An escort? Why would we need that?

  I’d just have to wonder, though, because whilst I was in the room, I wasn’t ‘at’ the meeting, and after all my time with Alexander I knew my place here.

  “And then?”

  “Mr Davis will set you up with a flat, and we can discuss what sort of a role there might be for you and your operative” – a glance at me – “with us.”

  “That’ll be a conversation I’ll want to have with Rhys,” Samuel replied.

  Danny smiled wryly and dipped his head, acknowledging the slight.

  “Of course. But after things in London have been… resolved.”

  I felt the atmosphere in the room change. Samuel adjusted himself in the chair, sitting up straighter. I could see the tension in the way he held his shoulders. Subconsciously I curled myself into a tighter ball, reacting to the stress.

  “London,” Samuel prompted. He folded his arms, muscles bulging. I could see he didn’t want to take the lead. Danny eyed him shrewdly, picking up on his caginess.

  “Mr Davis would like to know what your plans are…” Danny tailed off, opening his hands to indicate that Samuel should fill the silence.

  He did, with a derisive snort.

  “I’m sure he would,” he said.

  Danny waited.

  I listened to Samuel sigh. I was interested, too. What did Samuel have in mind?

  “He wants something explosive, I can give him something explosive.”

  “A spectacle,” Danny reminded him.

  “I can guarantee him five minutes on the news.”

  Danny smiled. “Mr Davis would like that.”

  There was another snort from Samuel, but Danny’s expression didn’t change.

  “I’ll need certain items to make this work.”

  “Name them.” Danny was definitely paying attention now.

  “A car. Nondescript and empty, keys in the ignition, parked far enough away from the headquarters to stay under the radar.”

  “Fine.” Danny nodded.

  “And I’ll need a gun—”

  I blinked, confused. Samuel had a gun. It was heavy and mean looking. It had spent the night on the dresser, muzzle pointing at us.

  “Anything specific?”

  “Something light, accurate. With a silencer. Decent power but low trigger poundage.”

  “I see,” Danny paused. “And who’s this for?”

  An understanding passed between the two men. A second later it found its way to me. I gasped, earning a filthy look from Danny and a warning glance from Samuel. I bit my lip, abashed.

  “What else?”

  “C4, enough to split into four blocks. Two half-kilo slabs will probably be enough. And timers. Nothing fancy, no radio controls or anything. Plus enough copper wire to set up four devices.”

  “And?”

  Samuel spread his arms out, palms upturned.

  “That’s it.”

  “No muscle? Back up?”

  “No.” Samuel shook his head slowly. “The best way to do this is stealth. Go storming in and you’ll end up in a bloodbath that won’t be finished by the time the GE turn up. We go in – quietly – plant, then disappear. Get far enough to make sure your little… commotion happens.”

  “Okay. When do you need it for?”

  Samuel checked his watch.

  “About six o’clock.”

  Danny barked out a laugh but Samuel wasn’t smiling.

  “You can’t be serious?” Danny looked at Samuel incredulously. He just shrugged. “There’s no way! I mean, the car and the gun I can do. But it takes time to lay my hands on C4. I haven’t just got some lying around out back!”

  “Yes, you have.”

  This time Samuel did smile and I watched Danny’s eyes narrow to snakelike slits.

  “Samuel—”

  “I want to be on a boat, on my way to Cardiff, by the time the sun comes up tomorrow. That’s the deal, Danny.”

  “Why the rush?” Danny demanded.

  Samuel took the time to look behind him, to where I was watching the exchange with my mouth gaping open.

  “It’s not safe to stay any longer than that. If I’m getting out, it’s now.”

  Danny sighed heavily and ran his fingers through his thinning hair. He looked ruffled.

  “I’ll see what I can do.”

  Samuel stood up, kicked his chair back.

  “Call me when you have everything ready.”

  Then he turned to me and jerked his head, indicating that we were leaving.

  A little surprised at the abrupt end to the meeting, I was clumsy as I stumbled to my feet. Danny, too, seemed taken aback. He didn’t rise out of his chair, but watched us disappear from his office, with a grim expression on his face.

  While we waited for Danny to get Samuel’s list of gear together, we went back to the hotel, The Scelter, to the same room we’d had the night before. There Samuel finally revealed his plan to me.

  It was terrifying. He planned to return to Bancroft Road. He’d been away so much over the last few days that not to do so would arouse suspicion, and he worried that, if he didn’t reappear, Alexander or Zane would go out looking for him rather than being where we needed them to be: in bed. Then, once all was quiet, he wanted to bring me in with my bombs. I’d sneak around like a cat burglar, planting the four explosive devices at strategic points around the building. I was having palpitations just at the thought of that, but Samuel had one more bombshell for me.

  “There can’t be any mistakes,” he told me, wrapping the warmth of his hand around mine, squeezing to emphasise the importance of his words. “We need to be absolutely sure that Alex and Zane don’t walk away from this.”

  I was no expert, but I was fairly sure that the amount of C4 we were talking about would be sufficient to take care of that problem. It wasn’t enough for Samuel, though.

  “Have you ever fired a gun before?” he asked me quietly.

  “No,” I shook my head, eyes wide. Though I’d been surrounded by violence, and guns were an everyday part of my world, I’d never held one. Alexander had seen to that. Not that he thought I would do anything foolish like fire it. No, it was just another way to control me, to keep me under the thumb.

  “It’s fairly straightforward,” he reached behind him, taking out his own gun. I wanted to look down at it, but Samuel held my stare, green eyes burning into mine. He turned my hand over so that it was palm up and I felt the cool weight of moulded steel drop into the cradle of my fingers. “Do you know how to hold it?”

  I shook my head again, still watching him, and saw as his face softened into a reassuring smile.

  “It’s easy. Here, stand up.”

  I did as he said and he pulled me across the room to stand in front of a full-length mirror.

  “Okay, curl your hand around it like this,” he bent my fingers to his will, wrapping three of them around the grip, hooking one over the trigger.

  “Won’t it…” My voice was tremulous, my arm shaking. I didn’t like the feel of the thing in my hands.

  “Go off?” he smiled at me in the mirror. “No, the safety’s on.”

  “Oh.” I shifted my feet, a bit embarrassed.

  “Stand like this,” he kicked at my left foot until I moved it. “That’s it, shoulder width apart. You need to balance or you won’t aim right. Now—” He moved over a bit so that he was standing right behind me. He was broad enough to wrap both arms easily around mine. “Hold it in both hands, your second one will keep it steady. Then you pull down on this – don’t touch the trigger now though!” he warned me, drawing what I now realised was the safety catch down with his thumb. “And then
all you have to do is squeeze.”

  He knocked my finger off the trigger – just in case – but let my hands go so that I was holding it myself, pointing at my own reflection. I stared forward, taking in the image. I looked frightening – and frightened. I could see the slight vibration in my shoulders where my muscles were shaking.

  “It’s heavy!” I complained.

  Samuel smiled and reached for the gun, easily taking it out of my grip and sliding the safety catch back on before dropping it with a clatter on the sideboard.

  “This is heavy. What I’ve asked Danny for is much lighter, but you’ll still feel the kick when you pull the trigger.”

  I sat down slowly on the bed, rubbing my clammy hands against the duvet cover.

  “And why do I need one?”

  “I told you, Lizzie. We’ve got to be totally sure. If I have to take out the man on the door, and then Alex and Zane, the alarm’ll be raised long before you’ve had a chance to lay the bombs.”

  I felt the blood drain from my face.

  “You want me to shoot someone?”

  Samuel sat down beside me on the bed, close enough for me to feel the heat of his skin.

  “You’re going to have to plant one of the devices in Alex’s office anyway,” he told me gently.

  “Alexander?” I squeaked.

  “Would you rather it was Zane? I’ll give you the choice Lizzie.”

  I thought about that. I supposed it didn’t matter either way. And I could understand why Samuel would prefer not to have to murder his brother whilst he slept, defenceless and unaware. Besides, I’d never been in Zane’s flat before, didn’t know the layout.

  But the thought of having to get that close to Alexander…

  “Why can’t we just let the bombs do the job?” I asked quietly.

  “We have to be sure. Alex will never let us go, either of us, while there’s still a breath in his body. I don’t want to spend the rest of my life looking over my shoulder.” He sighed. “I hate asking this of you, sweetheart. But if we want a clean getaway, this is what we have to do. Can you?”

  I stared up at him silently.

  “Yes,” I whispered finally. We were doing all this to get away. We needed to get away. “Okay. I can do it.” I swallowed, made my voice stronger. “Alexander. I’ll take Alexander.”

  “Are you sure?”

  After a long moment, I nodded. Samuel sensed my fear – it must have been clear on my face – and lifted a hand, pressed it to my cheek.

  “It’ll be fine,” he promised me. “It will be.”

  Then he drew me forward and pressed his mouth to mine.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  The phone call came at seven minutes to six. We were lounging across the bed. The television was on, but we weren’t really watching it. Instead I was lying on my back, my arms by my sides, my fingers clenched into fists. My cheeks were on fire, and I was keeping my legs still by crossing and uncrossing my feet, holding down one ankle, then the other.

  “You,” said Samuel, dropping his head to land a kiss on the soft skin of my inner elbow, “need to start letting people be nice to you.”

  He hadn’t let me move for the past twenty minutes. We’d been eating dinner, a takeaway pizza brought up to us by the receptionist. Afterwards I’d tried to clean up, binning the grease-smeared box and washing down the stained dresser top with a tissue and soap. Then, without being asked, I’d gone to fix Samuel a drink from the mini bar. That’s when he’d got annoyed.

  “Will you stop running around after me?”

  I paused, a small bottle of Bacardi clutched in my hand.

  “But—”

  “I mean it. Put that down. Come here.”

  I obeyed and he pulled me onto the bed, forcing me down until I was lying there, staring up at him.

  “Samuel, I—”

  He put a finger to my lips, and smiled.

  “No. It’s your turn to be looked after.”

  Then he pinned me down with his eyes and his smile, and ran his fingers over every inch of my skin until I was tingling all over.

  When the phone rang, I was both relieved and frustrated. I went to sit up, startled by the noise, but Samuel pinned me with one elbow and reached across to the bedside table where his phone rested. The screen lit up and the phone vibrated gently against the satin smoothness of the wood. He glanced quickly at the caller ID before hitting one of the buttons on the tiny keypad and raising it to his ear.

  “Danny. Have you got everything?”

  I couldn’t hear what Danny said on the other end of the line, but I saw Samuel’s eyes narrow with grim satisfaction.

  “No. No, bring it here.”

  A second later he hung up, stared solemnly at me.

  “It’s time?” I whispered.

  Samuel opened his mouth to answer, but the phone in his hand lit up again and started to buzz. A second later the shrill ringing sounded out, tinny, the speaker half-muffled by his hand. Samuel looked down at the caller ID again, then up at me. I didn’t have to ask who it was.

  He curled off the bed and turned his back on me, facing the window, before he answered.

  “Yeah?” I could hear the tension layering his voice, making it gruffer, harsh.

  Cautiously I eased off the bed, stepped silently up behind him. Though I loathed the idea of hearing his voice, I wanted to know what Alexander was saying. I took another pace, then another. A loose floorboard creaked under my foot. I froze as Samuel whirled around. He raised an eyebrow at me, exactly as his brother might have done, but grabbed me round the shoulder and drew me into his chest, tucking my head under his jaw. From there, I could just about hear what Alexander said.

  “…need you here. For the past damned week I’ve hardly seen hide nor hair of you. I’m getting tired of it, Samuel.”

  I was right: I didn’t want to hear his voice. It was soft, lilting, gentle. Deadly. It struck a bolt of terror and hate shooting down into the pit of my belly. My mouth filled with saliva as nausea rolled in my gut, and I had to swallow against the urge to vomit.

  “I told you, I’ve been with Natalie,” Samuel’s reply was soothing, apologetic. And guilt-laden.

  Alexander heard it at once.

  “Don’t lie to me!” Not a shout, but clipped and cold. A warning.

  “Alex, it’s the truth—”

  Samuel’s denial was half-hearted.

  “No, it’s not. I swear to God, Samuel, if you weren’t my brother…” He let that hang there, the threat floating out of the handset and coiling round Samuel’s throat. My throat. Suddenly it was hard to breath. “I want you here. Now. No excuses.”

  Samuel swallowed quietly. His grip on me tightened.

  “Give me an hour.”

  We left the hotel as soon as one of Davis’s men arrived with a discreet black rucksack that was heavy despite its lack of bulk. Samuel drove whilst I sat in the back seat, trying to assemble four small timer-circuits and splice two bricks of cold grey putty into identical chunks. They were simple devices, but the ruts and bumps of the road made my hands clumsy and I knew there was no room to make mistakes. It was dangerous, too. Samuel had to skirt the edges of the Central Zone and in the late rush hour the traffic was sluggish. All we needed was for the wrong person to look in at the wrong moment, for a GE patrol to take an interest in us, and Bancroft Road would be the least of our worries.

  But Samuel hadn’t wanted to keep Alexander waiting.

  By the time we reached the outskirts of Stepney, I had assembled four blocks roughly half the size of a brick and wired up my triggers. All that was left now was to put two and two together and make fire. I didn’t want to do that until the last minute, though. Just in case.

  “Right,” Samuel pulled into a deserted street lined with closed-down industrial units and turned to face me. His eyes raked over the jumble of wires and C4, now organised and set up. “Are you ready for this, Lizzie?”

  I nodded and started stuffing everything back into the bag,
my expression disgruntled. I did not like Samuel’s plan for getting me back inside the walls of Bancroft Road, although admittedly I didn’t have any better ideas.

  He got out of the car and lifted his seat forward so that I could crawl clumsily out of the back. Then he walked to the rear of the vehicle and, reluctantly, I followed. He opened the boot, stepped back and looked at me sympathetically.

  “I’m sorry,” he offered. “I’ll try and drive as smoothly as possible.”

  I made a face, though it wasn’t the bumps and jerking of the vehicle that I was worried about. It was the tightness of the space. It was the darkness. It was the thought that something could happen to Samuel and I’d be left in there, trapped, with a kilo of explosives.

  But Samuel knew all of these arguments. And he was sorry, I could see that. There simply wasn’t another option.

  With a sigh, I dropped the bag into the boot and shimmied onto the bumper. I swung one leg in, then the other. Giving Samuel one last, frightened glance, I lowered myself gently into the space. He waited until I was as comfortable as I could ever be in there, then closed the door on me. The click of the latch was loud in my ears, locking me in.

  “Can you hear me? Are you okay in there?”

  I wasn’t. I was already fighting the urge to hyperventilate. Samuel had promised me I wouldn’t suffocate, but the darkness was thick and penetrating. It was exactly how I imagined it would feel to be buried alive.

  “Yes,” I called back, but there was no volume to my voice and I don’t know if he heard me.

  I could hear him, however, though it was muffled, like listening underwater. I listened to the sound of his footsteps walking away from me, then the door opening and the slam as he pulled it shut. I winced as the noise echoed around the closed-in boot. A few seconds later he started the car, and the ground beneath me began to vibrate. I tried to wriggle about, hoping to find a more comfortable position, but the floor of the boot was rock hard and no matter how I lay, something dug into me painfully. I gritted my teeth, hoping the journey wouldn’t last long; at the same time, hoping it would last for ever. Because when it was over, I would be much closer to Alexander than I wanted to be.